Wonderlocked
by Sherlocked Otaku no. 42
Summary: During a case, the boys find themselves in Wonderland,with no idea what to do,or what is expected of them,and gradually are joined by... everyone else of importance.Full summary inside,mild slashiness,but nothing too worrying,and only rated for the t exactly a crackfic,but can sound like one at some points,and no particular season is in mind,so no real spoilers.Enjoy!


Hey, y'all! I know it has been an obnoxiously long time since I've written anything for you guys, and I apologize as profusely as I can, but I had issues that killed my computer, and no money to buy a new one until now, since I got my most recent tax refund and all... So, I offer to you the most humble apologies that you can accept, if anyone even cares anymore, and hope you will forgive me... And now that I've done that, I present to you this crazy little fic. It occurred to me to do it, so I shall! Huzzah!

Share and enjoy.

Disclaimer: Alas, nothing is truly mine... Sigh...

Full summary: During a case, the boys wind up being the chased, rather than the chasers, and find themselves in the sewers. That's unpleasant enough for them, of course, but that's before the hole in the floor opens up and swallows them, causing them to fall for an unusually long time, until they find themselves in a strange hallway with nothing in it to speak of except a lone glass table, an equally lone glass bottle, a very small door, and no obvious way out... How annoying.

Wonderlocked

Prologue

It was cold, wet, and rainy when they started, and if it was at all possible, it had gotten worse since. All this did was emphasize how aggravated Sherlock and John already were. It would, however, be nowhere near as annoying as the predicament they were soon to find themselves in thanks to a newly drawn gun, and the fact that their own had run out of bullets.

"You never keep extra ammo?!" John yelled, as they ducked behind some bins in an alleyway, something they did a lot more often than usual these days.

"I hadn't thought of it, no," was the answer he got from his best friend, complete with an awkward look of apology. "We don't usually wind up like this, if you hadn't noticed."

"Surprisingly." he sighed, and they paused, both wondering about their next move. At least Sherlock had stopped blaming Anderson's clumsiness for their current predicament, although the man would probably get an earful when they next met him.

Moriarty had been recently injured, the cause of which was a faulty explosion triggered by an incredibly careless associate. This was an obvious major setback, and had resulted in, once he recovered from his prolonged hospital stay, exactly ten more murders, eight more thefts, or at least a mocking sort of attempted theft, and this.

They had caught him again, but the result had been that he had somehow managed to escape the armored vehicle he had been being transported in, killing all three of the men inside with him in the process. The man in the passenger seat had, of course, also been one of his own men, and had promptly killed the driver, thrown him out of the seat onto the road, and had promptly crashed the truck. Why the latter, no one was entirely certain, but at this point in time it mattered not at all, as a major scale chase had ensued, which they were now a part of.

To their knowledge, at least three cops had gone down, Lestrade may or may not have been seriously injured, much to their mutual anger and upset, and now they were the ones being chased, all because Sherlock had forgotten to bring extra bullets. "So... What exactly is our plan now?"

Sherlock thought about this for a moment, looked around in the seconds they had left to think, and then settled on a decision. He didn't like it, and John wouldn't either, but they didn't have time for that now. "Uh... Run, I suppose?"

"Yep, of course." He sighed. "Well. Lets get on with it, then, yeah?"

"Yeah."

And they did. Bullets ringing around them, they fled, which was not something they normally did. John didn't care, but he figured Sherlock would care later, and would probably bitch and moan his disapproval of his own idea, but right now they were too busy for that.

They skidded to a stop in the middle of another street, and looked around frantically. Suddenly and without warning, Sherlock let out a small exclamation of some kind, and, to the doctors shock, grabbed his hand and yanked him onward, toward a set of doors. He didn't bother protesting, since he knew he would be ignored, and so focused on where they were going. When he couldn't figure it out on his own , he gave up and asked.

"Somewhere they'll have difficulty catching up to us in."

"What, what does that even mean?"

"This way!" Yank.

"Sherlock!"

They stopped near some more doors, this pair inside, and Sherlock turned to him and said, very politely, "Yes, John?"

John blinked, ignored the fact that his hand was still being held, and said, "Where _exactly_ are we going, Sherlock?"

His hand was released long enough for the doors to be opened, after which Sherlock looked at him and said, in the most pleasant tone he could manage, complete with a smiling nod, "The sewers."

Johns' mouth dropped open. "What, seriously?"

"Yes, seriously."

"Why?"

The sounds of hot pursuit met their ears.

"Need you ask?"

"I- You- Oh, for gods' sake..."

"Come _on_, John!" Again, his hand was grabbed, and again they were off. On the other side of these doors there was an open manhole cover, down which they climbed. His legs were getting awfully tired of this. At least he could understand the hand-holding thing now, since they could barely see a foot in front of their faces, and flashlights would be unwise.

They were being followed still, but the sounds it resulted in became quieter, less hurried, and accompanied by grouchy remarks regarding the location. Good, they had time... Time to do what, Sherlock didn't know, but they still had it, which was promising. He did his best to squint and look around, trying to discern their position, settled on a direction, and took it, calculating how long it would take for them to come to the next exit, whether or not they would make it out, and what might be hoped would happen with their pursuers. Difficult, yes, but not impossible. Not for him.

They ran for at least another forty-five minutes to an hour, dodging what needed to be dodged, and ducking and weaving when necessary. It was an exhausting process, and they were slowing down...

This was most likely why they made a wrong turn, and only narrowly escaped being caught by ducking close behind a conveniently placed wall, holding their breath as best they could and waiting.

Once they were convinced they were safe, they turned, moved away from the wall... And promptly fell through the floor.

They were so surprised by this, that they didn't have any time to make any sound so much as a squeak over it. Which was very good luck indeed, as they had just missed a few stragglers coming up past them seconds later.

A/N: Voila! That was the prologue to this! Hope you enjoyed it, and that you might want to come and check back again! Thanks for reading thus far, as always, and good night!


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